Chapter Four

Stolas led me through the alley, away from the SUV, and into a neighborhood filled with overgrown lawns and single-floor houses, each more sorry than the last.

The streetlight at the end of the block held no color.

The human district . He’d said.

I had no idea why a demon would choose to live there. Especially compared to the inner city, which had glittering skyscrapers and an abundance of shops and restaurants.

The street was still as Stolas led me to a dark house at the end of the street.

Maybe he’d bought me just to kill me. That seemed like a demonic thing to do.

Stolas flicked the light switch, revealing the hallway and staircase. Stolas took off his jacket, hanging it diligently by the door before he gestured to the kitchen.

Too hungry to argue, I followed him.

Everything was beige. From the cabinets to the tile. Stripped of any sort of personality whatsoever.

Though I’d been in the prison system, surrounded by painted concrete and iron bars, somehow, the landlord’s paradise of a home unnerved me.

Stolas dripped with personality, from his striped thin tie to the cut of his Victorian suit. His hair stuck up in all directions like a disgruntled magpie. Even his nose, too long for his face, spoke volumes about who he was—demons could wear any form they chose if they were powerful enough.

But the beige home, without a hint of character, told me absolutely nothing.

Stolas walked to the fridge, bending at the waist to look inside. He pulled out a wedge of cheese, holding it like an offering, his face creased in apology.

“It's the only thing I have.” He told me, reading the label. “Pepper-jack.”

I stared at the cheese as if it was the answer to all of life’s mysteries.

I hadn’t had cheese in years —and I certainly didn’t count the burnt wood shavings Sandy Village occasionally rolled out on Taco night.

I grabbed the cheese, nearly taking Stolas’s hand as I snatched up the Pepper-jack and tore off the plastic wrap like a mad woman. I inhaled my first bite, struggling to breathe when I tried to chew.

I should have savored the cheese. I didn’t know when my next meal would be. But I couldn’t.

Some people had a weak spot for chocolate. Some for wine.

For me, I would have sold my soul for cheese. Brie, Gouda, or Stilton. I didn’t discriminate.

I demolished the block of cheese, ignoring my demonic audience. I wiped my greasy fingers against the polyester of my black dress. Rubbing my stomach and ignoring the heartburn creeping up my chest.

Okay . I nodded to myself. I could do this. Quid pro quo.

I reached down, pulling the black dress over my head with one switch movement. I knew the prison-issue bra and panties weren’t the prettiest, but I didn’t have much to offer.

I bit my lip, gesturing to my body. We didn’t speak the same language, but that was okay. I was letting him know that I’d be a good purchase. He didn’t need to hurt me. If he remembered to feed me, I’d perform.

Especially if he gave me more cheese.

Stolas froze, his eyes wide as he took in my body like a deer in headlights. I wasn’t the slimmest, even as a teenager, and prison food hadn’t been kind of my waistline.

I was soft.

It was hard not to be ashamed of the body I’d been given.

I jutted my chin, meeting his eyes. I reached up to the space between my breasts, where the plastic fastening sat.

Stolas stepped forward, reaching for my hand and stilling my fingers by pinning my hand between our bodies. I felt the heat of his body through the fabric of his shirt.

I looked up. His nose was inches from mine.

I couldn’t read his mind. His dark eyes were endless, like the night sky.

His lips hovered over mine.

He was going to kiss me.

I hadn’t been kissed in years .

My skin prickled with anticipation.

He looked like he knew what he was doing. I needed that. My fingers twitched with the need to turn him. Until then, I’d forgotten about the plastic wrap in my hands.

Stolas stepped back abruptly, grabbing my dress from the floor and tugging it over my head in one swift movement.

A moment later, a key turned in the lock. Demonic hearing.

Stolas hadn’t said anything about roommates.

He hadn’t said much at all.

He maneuvered his body in front of mine, blocking my view of the kitchen doorway. He took the plastic wrap from my hands, crushing it into a ball in his fist and stuffing it in the pocket of his tailored trousers. His black eyes were alert, but his shoulders relaxed. He knew the visitor, but that didn’t stop my fear.

Now that my belly was full and I could think more clearly, I realized just how dangerous everything was. Stolas had taken me to an empty house in the Human Realities. Maybe he planned to do something that other demons wouldn’t agree with. Something illegal, even by the sparse laws of the Red City.

Maybe he had invited friends.

I mean... It had been a while, and I’d need to stretch, but I could make it work.

Heavy footfalls echoed through the quiet house, and a moment later, a head popped around the doorframe and headed to the kitchen. A male demon. Horns curved from his forehead to his jawline, peeking out of a mass of curly dark hair. His eyes caught the light, shining red, more human than Stolas’s dark sclera, but carrying a strange emotion that I’d only seen in predators at the zoo as a child. The stranger cocked his head to the side, regarding me without a hint of emotion.

“Caim.” Stolas stepped forward, drawing the attention of the horned demon. “I wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow.”

Caim grinned, flashing the hint of a sharp canine tooth. “Who’s behind you?”

Stolas ignored his question. “Where are Malphas and Murmur?”

Caim glanced over his shoulder, revealing two other men. More demons, though they didn’t have horns like the first.

One of the demons rushed towards the fridge. I pressed against Stolas’s back to make myself as small as possible—hoping they wouldn’t see me.

The blond demon growled, slamming the fridge door. “Who ate my cheese?” He glared at Stolas. “I was saving that.”

I bit back a squeak, feeling the stolen cheese in my stomach like a heavy weight.

“Malphas...” Stolas held out his hands, palms facing out in a disarming fashion.

Malphas didn’t have horns like Camio, but he was no less demonic. His eyes were an endless blue starry night, cloudy darkness. Though his voice was brusque and angry, his face was the opposite. Doe eyes and turned up nose. Shorter than Stolas, he looked almost... Cute.

“Because you told me yesterday that you don’t consume ‘human food.’” Malphas sneered, lifting his fingers to make air quotes. “You’re a lying—” the demon stopped, sniffing the air.

Caim, Malphas, and the other demon, Murmur, zeroed in on Stolas.

“You bought a human at the Meat Market?” I’d heard Stolas call the demon Murmur, so I assumed that was his name. Murmur had short-cropped hair and shrewd eyes. His cheekbones were high, giving him a regal fox-like bearing, and he stood almost as tall as Stolas.

“He bought a human?” Caim, the horned demon, perked up. “Stolas bought a human?”

Malphas crossed his arms over his chest. “Probably spent every last of our credits for his sick savior complex . Death and Darkness , Stolas, tell me you didn’t do something so stupid .”

Caim craned his neck, trying to peek around Stolas’s tall body. Unfortunately, I was wider than Stolas, and it was evident I was tucked behind his back.

“Her name is Mandy.” Stolas pinched the bridge of his nose. “She is defective.”

“Mandy.” Malphas spat as if the word offended him.

My name isn’t Mandy . I remained silent, as always.

“Mandy?” Caim stepped closer, bending at the waist to try and get a better look at me. “Don’t mind Mal, he’s a grumpy asshole. I promise we won’t hurt you.”

“Speak for yourself,” Malphas grumbled, stomping away. “She ate my cheese .”

Caim ignored him. His brow pursed as he regarded me for the first time. The horned demon lifted his hands and signed a simple greeting in ASL.

“ Hello, Mandy .” Caim gave me a weak smile, apologetic for his finger spelling.

I smiled for the first time in a long time. “ My name is Maddie. Not Mandy. And I can hear. I just can’t speak.”

Caim snorted a laugh, turning to Stolas as he relayed my message.

Murmur cleared his throat. “Perhaps Maddie would like to rest. I think Stolas has a lot to tell us.”

I looked between the demons, reluctant to be far from Stolas. While I didn’t know them very well, I had been around Stolas for nearly an hour, and he hadn’t hurt me yet. He hadn’t insulted me—he’d treated me like an inconvenient pet rather than someone he’d bought at the ‘meat market.’

Caim lifted his hand, volunteering. “I’ll take Maddie to her room.”

“She better not be taking mine,” Malphas said with a face of thunder.

Stolas arched a brow. “She’ll reside in the guest suite.”

Better than a chain in the attic, at least.

Caim beamed, holding out his hand for me to take. I eyed him as if he was mad. Because he probably was. He wasn’t offended when I didn’t take his hand, instead playing off my refusal with a chuckle before he gestured to the doorway. “This way, Miss Maddie.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as Caim led me to my room.

There was a bed.

A real live bed with a mattress and cotton sheets. A thick comforter and pillows .

I’d hid my excitement when Caim had shown me the room, determined not to let the horned demon know how pitiful I truly was, but the moment he’d left, I’d dived under the covers and formed a human burrito. Rubbing my legs together and grinning. If getting snuggly was an Olympic sport, I’d have won gold.

Despite the plush furnishings, it took a long while to sleep.

Stolas and the others argued into the early hours.

It was clear that Caim, Malphas, and Murmur were not included in his decision to buy me.

“ Into the city...”

“More humans...”

“The trade...”

“We need to know... ”

Soon, the doors shut, and the house was quiet. Though my head was anything but.

I was used to the cacophony of prison. The rattle of iron bars and the screams and sobs of the prisoners in the dark.

I still remembered my first night in prison. The moment the bars shunted closed with a heavy clang. The lights all turned off at once. I hadn’t slept that night or the next. I’d made a lot of mistakes as a frightened eighteen-year-old reeling from a triple murder charge. For murders I hadn’t committed.

The night felt too quiet. The bed was too soft. I knotted my fingers over my stomach and stared at the ceiling, wondering if I’d made the right choice coming to the Red City.

Either way, it was too late to change it now.

I slipped into unconsciousness, though my mind had reeled and fought for hours.

I hadn’t dreamt in years, at least not that I could remember on waking.

Somehow, my first night in the Red City was different. Maybe my exhaustion knocked something loose in my head.

I remembered my old house in Portland, though certain things had faded with time. The scent of my mother’s candles or the cat scratches on the couch. Everything looked the same, but somehow completely different, like watching a movie adaptation of my life.

I knew the scene well, though I’d never seen it from my perspective.

I opened my mouth, but my voice was gone, just like in my waking hours.

I wanted to warn baby-Maddie about the monster. I knew she would walk through the door any moment, but I could do nothing to save her.

I didn’t need to look in the kitchen to know the source of the sounds. The crying whimpers as death came for my mother. Eaten alive.

I woke up, a scream locked in my throat. The same scream that came whenever death haunted me, and the Sídhe-Eater crossed my thoughts.

I’d never seen its face. I hadn’t needed to see Mom’s body to know she was dead.

I woke up to an empty house.

I knew because I’d crept down the hall and peeked into every room for signs of my demonic masters.

I tested the front door, finding it unlocked. There were some crackers in the cupboard with a post-it that read ‘Property of Malphas.’

I ate them and washed them down with a glass of tap water.

I sat in the living room, unable to summon a single idea of what to do.

Maybe it was a test?

Maybe they wanted me to run.

Maybe they liked the chase.

With new disturbing thoughts, I searched the single-story home for anything creepy. Serial killer-esque. I knew what to look for; I’d been shoulder-to-shoulder with the crazies for ten years.

No heads in the fridge or lampshades made of nipples. Not even a basement with an industrial-sized freezer.

The television only had five channels, and three of them were news.

I ran a bath. I used all the expensive products until the bathroom was filled with bubbles, and the steam made me dizzy.

And it wasn’t even ten am yet.

Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I couldn’t get comfortable.

I was used to having a schedule. In prison, every moment was accounted for and planned, down to when I took a shit.

The men who had bought me weren’t men at all. They were demons .

They had to have a plan for me, right?

Drifting through the house, on my third loop, I noticed things I hadn’t before. Dust collected in the corners or spiderwebs on the ceiling. A thin layer of grime.

Though the house was tidy, it wasn’t clean.

Bored out of my mind, I grabbed the pitiful collection of cleaning supplies from under the sink and got to work.

I vacuumed. I scrubbed. I wiped.

Once the house smelled fresher and lunchtime came, I stepped outside for fresh air—reluctant to go too far from the house. I rested my elbows on the porch, watching the human district during the day.

Each home was the same size, with a stretch of lawn out the front and no fence between properties. The road was cracked, with a dozen potholes and no cars in sight.

“Hey!” A brusque female voice called out.

I was startled, turning to the sound and finding the nearest neighbor on her porch. Her hair was an unnatural flame red, and her shorts were indecent. Her flip-flops smacked against the uneven sidewalk, and she paused to take a drag of a vape pen before she started toward me.

“You just moved in?” She said, stopping at the bottom of my porch steps.

I pointed to my lips and then signed, “ ASL ?”

“You deaf or something?” she put her hand on her hips.

I shook my head but pointed to my lips again.

“You can’t talk?” She guessed, making her way up the steps without an invitation. “This house has been empty for a while. You just move in?”

I shook my head, then nodded, unable to decide on an answer.

She ignored me, holding out her hand. “I’m Aimee.” She declared. “I live just over there. I guess no one at the Meat Market wanted you on account of—” She tapped her mouth. “Sucks, don’t it? There aren’t enough humans in the Red City for demons to afford to get picky.”

I gestured toward Aimee, raising my brow in question.

Her mouth softened with understanding. “I work on Real Housewives of the Red City. Costume department. Demons can be really funny about their clothes. Some of them didn’t even wear clothes until they came to the Human Realities for the first time. Plus, tails, horns, and other bits mean loads of tailoring work.”

My eyes rounded.

“Reality TV.” Aimee joked. “Not as much reality as you’d expect.”

I nodded in agreement.

Aimee glanced over her shoulder. “I better get back to work. You can call if you need anything. Or... Maybe not call, but knock, okay?”

I agreed, making my way back into the house. Feeling normal for the first time in a long while.

The sun had set when one of my new demon masters returned home.

Thankfully, it was Caim and not one of the others.

Caim spotted my efforts to clean. Immediately signing instead of speaking. “ You cleaned ?”

“ Yes ,” I replied.

Caim grinned. “ Did you miss me ?”

I ignored his question. “ I met the neighbor. Aimee. She’s nice. She said the house was empty, though?”

Caim pondered my words, shrugging. “ We’re new to the city. ” He told me.

“ Oh ,” I said, lowering my hands. Somehow, his words had raised more questions than answers. I held up my arm, showing the red sigil on my inner elbow. “Why is this red? What Sin is red?”

“It’s hard to explain.” He signed, wincing.

“ Why do you need a human? What is my job here ?”

“You ask a lot of questions.” Caim countered.

“ Not many people speak ASL. I’m taking advantage .”

“I speak all languages. It’s kind of my thing.” Caim shot me a crooked grin. “Behold, I am Caim. Do you want to play a board game? I have Settlers of Catan.”

“ Is that why I’m here? To play board games ?”

“We could do something more interesting. Reveal our pasts. Tell me, how did it feel to kill your foster mother. Your foster father. Little baby Calvin?” Caim knitted his fingers together and rested his hands under his chin. He regarded me with the same mirth as if he were asking if I wanted an ice cream sundae. Bile rose in my throat, and my nose and eyes burned with unshed tears. I couldn’t breathe.

The last argument I’d had with my foster family echoed through my head.

I’d told Faith, my foster mom, that I hoped she died during an argument. I couldn’t even remember what we had been fighting about.

And twenty-four hours later, she did. They all did.

Words had power.

Mine more than most.

So now, I didn’t speak. At all.

I couldn’t risk it.

“ How do you know about that ?”

“Stolas has your file.” Caim cocked his head to the side. “Does it feel good to kill people? Is that why you did it? Did your foster family do something to you? Was it revenge?”

I stood up, my hands shaking. “ Why are you asking all these questions ?”

“You like questions.” He spoke instead of signing. “You want to know why you’re here? Because Stolas needed a human, we didn’t have enough credits for anyone else.”

“ Why do you need a human ?” My fingers slipped, and I struggled to sign the words.

Caim opened his mouth to speak, turning to the side, as the front door opened to reveal Malphas with a paper bag of groceries. Caim stood up, brushing his hands down the front of his t-shirt and shaking his curly hair away from his eyes as he drifted away—like he hadn’t just broken my heart with his cruelty.

It hit me then. I didn’t know Caim. He was the only person in the house I could communicate with, and I’d assumed that meant kindness. Inclusivity. Not many hearing people learned ASL if they didn’t need to. I should have known better. Caim was a demon.

I wasn’t in the mood for Malphas. Though he carried grocery bags, which was a good sign. Considering I was the only person in the house who needed to eat.

I scratched my arm, ignoring the burning cut from the barbed wire. It had bothered me all day, but it was easy to overlook.

Malphas ignored me, striding into the kitchen with his bags. I drifted forward to watch him. Waiting like Oliver Twist for a morsel of food.

I had no qualms with stealing food if needed. Prison had been a dog-eat-dog world, and I’d fallen victim to poachers more times than I could count. Food was a treasure. I didn’t get commissary often; that was a privilege reserved for people with family and friends on the outside. But I would trade. I had skills for those brave enough to approach me.

Braiding hair. Cutting fingernails. Helping people write their love letters. Seemingly benign skills that were worth their weight in gold behind bars.

Malphas ignored me as he packed away his groceries. He’d bought more cheese, and I found myself drifting over, my neck craned as I studied his haul. My fingers itched with the desire to grab the triangle of brie on the kitchen island and make a run for it.

“You like cheese, huh?” Malphas crossed his arms over his chest, resting his butt against the counter.

I was startled at the sound of his voice but didn’t answer.

“You’re eying that cheese like the second coming of Christ.” Malphas frowned.

I quirked a brow at his verbiage, and he snickered.

“You think demons don’t know about Christ. About Yahweh?”

I shrugged, eying him warily.

Malphas sighed. “Look.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Stolas didn’t tell us he was bringing a human home. We’d talked about it, but nothing was concrete. Yes, we need someone to take care of things around the house. We can’t stay in the Human district without at least one human in the household—” Malphas interrupted himself. His sharp teeth snapped shut before he revealed much more. “Our Flock isn’t prestigious. We aren’t part of a royal court anymore. We are Purebloods, but being born in Hell doesn’t mean much when you’ve been blacklisted. As long as you keep the house clean and do our laundry and shit, we’ll protect you.”

It took a moment to digest his words. I nodded slowly, eying him as I waited for the other shoe to drop.

Malphas reached into a grocery bag. “Look at this.” His smile wasn’t freely given, not like Caim’s. Malphas smiled like a man afraid of punishment for showing any hint of softness.

My brow pursed as I stepped forward. Malphas pulled a wrapped brown parcel out of his bag, untying the string.

“This is Pule Cheese. It’s made from donkey and goat milk.” Malphas said proudly. “I’ll share it with you. It’s very rare. So you better enjoy it.”

I took myself back to the guest room after eating. Full of crackers and strange goat cheese. I definitely didn't object to the food, but if I stayed longer than a week, I’d need a vegetable of some kind.

The demons needed a maid?

That was it?

They needed a maid and silent, forgotten Maddie was the cheapest human at the Meat Market.

I shouldn’t have been offended.

I’d almost been shuffled off to the human district anyway. At least this way, I had some sort of protection.

It was more than I deserved anyway.

Being a foster kid meant I was used to being forgotten. I hadn’t expected that to change, not really.

It was better that way.

Stolas, Caim, Malphas and Murmur were demons .

They had bought me, but maybe we could be friends.

After all, anything was better than failing another appeal and waiting on death row to die.

Being in prison meant I was no stranger to wearing the same clothes for multiple days in a row.

It seemed my nose wasn’t as strong as a demon's, though, because the following day, as I emerged from the guest room in the same shapeless black dress from the auction, I caught Malphas make a face before he quickly cleared his expression.

Stolas sat at the kitchen island, flicking through a thin leather book so old the title had worn away. His nose wrinkled as I entered the room, though he didn’t look up.

I hadn’t seen Murmur since my first night, and Caim had made himself scarce after he’d succeeded in scaring me with his Jekyll and Hyde routine.

“Are you going into the city?” Malphas asked Stolas, eying the much taller demon with a suspicious squint.

Stolas sighed, closing his book. “I have business in Lust.”

Malphas sniffed, his button nose wrinkling with distaste. “Maybe you should take Maddie to get some new clothing.” He suggested.

“Why?” Stolas frowned. “We have a washing machine.”

“Yes,” Malphas said slowly. “But she needs more than one outfit.”

Stolas glanced at me and then down to his book. “I suppose I can take her.”

I tried not to be excited about going into the city. After all, I hadn’t gone into a shore in years .

Cool, calm, and collected, that was me.

“Don’t forget to feed her,” Malphas called over his shoulder as he grabbed a bread roll and bit into it. “You bought her. You take care of her.”

Stolas closed his book, placing it on the table. He coughed, the action born from nerves.

I had no idea what he had to be nervous about. He was a demon in the Red City. He had magic. Agency. He wasn’t living out the rest of a life sentence. A second-class citizen.

Stolas pinched the bridge of his nose and forced a smile. It fell flat. His hair was stuck up in several places, adding to his harried appearance. “Should we start over?” He suggested.

“ Why ?” I signed. “ You can’t understand me. ”

He growled in frustration and muttered something that sounded a lot like, ‘ Caim is enjoying this too much.’

I had no idea what he meant by that.

“Come on,” Stolas reached for the jacket on the back of his chair, donning it as he stood—the swinging garment looked a lot like wings. He moved towards the door, passing beside me, his arm brushing mine as I watched him go.

I didn’t know him well, but I sensed that Stolas carried a lot on his shoulders—perhaps more than I understood.

He stopped, pausing to face me. He opened his mouth and closed it again, unable to find whatever words he needed. I met his dark, endless eyes, my brow furrowed in confusion as I waited.

We’d had a moment before, though maybe I’d just imagined it.

I definitely wasn’t imagining it now.

Stolas reached for my arms, his entire face locked in concentration as he stared at me like a complex equation he could not solve. He leaned in, at first, I thought, to study me. I froze, unsure what to do with his laser-point focus.

I was forgettable.

Ignorable.

Silent.

As Stolas pressed his lips against mine, like a man trying to find the solution to a problem, I didn’t feel forgettable.

I felt dangerous.

I reached up, my fingers tangling in his hair. Melting as I breathed in his scent and tasted the mint on his breath. Stolas kissed like a feather, leaving the skin of my lips burning, aching for more.

My nipples hardened, and I pressed myself to his chest, deepening the kiss. I wanted more . Much more.

It had been years, and Stolas was tall, dark, and handsome. He smelled like magic and looked like the devil.

My own magic rose like nighttime shadows under my skin.

I wanted to claim him.

I stepped back, panting, holding my hands up to create a wall between us.

Jesus . I’d almost claimed him.

I shook my head to clear it.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Bean Sídhe claiming was permanent. It would tie me to Stolas, to the Red City.

It was one thing to be forced to live out a life sentence and another to choose to belong to one place.

Forever.

Stolas pushed his fingers through his hair. His lips were swollen, and he looked thoroughly disheveled. I didn’t have it in me to be ashamed.

“Yes.” He brushed his hand over his mouth. “Let’s not complicate things,” Stolas muttered to himself. “We should go before it gets too late.”

It didn’t take long for Stolas and I to walk down the alley behind the house to the ancient SUV tucked behind the dumpster.

I was used to the silence. Being mute meant that people forgot that I could hear as well. Not many people wanted to have one-sided conversations.

I was just happy to have a change of clothes. I didn’t even care if Stolas was in charge of the outfits. He could dress me as a French maid for all I cared, as long as he got more than one outfit so I could wash my clothes.

Just because I was used to wearing the same outfit over and over and smelling like musty old sweat didn’t mean I liked it.

“Pride has the best stores,” Stolas told me. “Vanity is their specialty. The First Circle is Pride. You’d think the Purple District would be in the city center, but humans had some say in the construction of the Red City, and they put all of the administrative buildings at the heart of the city.”

I nodded to show I was listening.

“I have business in the city. In Lust. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have offered to take you.” Stolas kept his eyes on the road.

I lifted a brow. Why did he act like he was doing me a favor? He’d bought me, now he was pissed he had to actually take care of me.

Fine. If he wanted to pretend the kiss had never happened, I would.

I hadn’t meant it as a rejection when I'd put distance between us. I’d needed a moment to calm down, or I would have leashed him like a pet poodle. But I couldn’t exactly explain that.

Because 1) I was mute, and he didn’t speak ASL.

And 2) I was a Bean Sídhe and in hiding.

I was starting to doubt the whole ‘needing someone to clean’ stic. Maybe Stolas was repressed. Perhaps he just needed a few days to don his big boy pants before he showed me the BDSM dungeon.

The thought made me snicker.

I faced the window as we drove over the tracks and into the demon-controlled part of the city. Though it was mid-morning, the streets were less crowded than I would have expected, and there were barely any cars at all.

“Most demons can Lace,” Stolas told me, seemingly reading my confusion about the lack of traffic. “They can Lace the fabric of two places together and step between them. Humans could call it ‘teleporting’ though there is nothing technological about the process.”

I pointed to Stolas, my brows arched in question.

He shook his head. “Only the more powerful demons can Lace. Those most connected to the Blanket of Power.” His lips turned down, and he rubbed his hand over the bottom part of his face. “I am not connected... Not anymore.”

I wanted to ask why and what he meant but remained silent.

“You will notice, as we delve into demonic territory, that I am not well-liked.” Stolas sniffed, looking down his austere nose to show that whatever other demons thought of him meant little. “But, you should not leave my side. A lot can happen to a human in the Red City. Especially one that cannot scream.”

It didn’t take long to reach the Purple District. Our SUV reflected back from every surface as we drove into Pride.

I’d never been to Rodeo Drive, Oxford Street, or the Upper East Side, but Pride was a mixture of how I’d imagined all of them. A place filled with designer labels, skinny mannequins, and clothes so expensive that I didn’t even want to think about the price tags.

My stomach curdled as I stared at the glittery world I didn’t belong to.

I tried not to show my disappointment when we kept driving. Telling myself I was an idiot to think Stolas would spend a whack on some mute human servant.

Finally, he parked outside a delipidated storefront. The glass was dusty, and the display ancient. The paint over the doorway was golden and peeling. ‘ Seir’s Seams and Stitches .’

It wasn’t Dior, Gucci, or Hermès.

I felt an inch tall for getting my hopes up. I didn’t even know why I’d conjured a scenario in my head, ala Pretty Woman. Most of my clothes had been from Goodwill as a teenager, and even then, I’d worn a prison uniform for a decade.

Anything was better than that.

Dream small, Madeleine. There is no shame in a small life. Too many of our kind don’t even get that. I knew my mother had said the words, but I couldn’t find the memory they belonged to. Regardless, she was right.

Stolas was thoughtful enough to get me clothes, even if Malphas had strongarmed him. Something was better than nothing.

I shot Stolas a grateful smile as he exited the car and circled to the passenger side, opening the door.

Stolas eyed me as if I’d lost my mind. My resting bitch face was just too powerful that when I did smile, I looked vaguely insane.

I’d have made a joke about Seir’s and Seers but I didn’t think it would translate into ASL very well.

Stolas strode forward, the wind whipping the tails of his long jacket like a Victorian Baron. He opened the shop door, and the bell echoed through the empty street as he waited for me to catch up.

My ears popped the moment I crossed the threshold. Every hair on my body lifted, and I smelled the magic in the air, like ozone. The moment before lightning hit. A smell I’d never experienced but somehow knew.

The store belonged to another time. No clothing racks or shelves. Just a single mannequin display wearing an elaborate Hanbok coated in dust.

Stolas closed the door, knitting his fingers together. I looked at him in question, but he didn’t elaborate.

A moment passed, breathing in the scent of stale air and dust.

A single cash register and counter sat at the back of the store. No clothes to be seen.

What kind of store was this?

The strange demon appeared out of nowhere, folding out of thin air like paper. They wore a single pair of grey joggers and a matching wife beater. I could not tell the demon’s gender based on appearance alone.

The demon seemed unfazed by the customers in their store. They squinted, studying Stolas with irritation.

“You didn’t make an appointment.” The demon’s eyes were vibrant green, their hair long enough to reach their waist. “It's been a minute, Stolas. You should have called.”

“Seir.” Stolas tipped his head in greeting. “This is Madeleine. She requires clothing.”

Seir rubbed their chin. “That’s the standard issue dress from the Meat Market. I thought you didn’t have two credits to rub together. That’s the rub when you spend a millennia encased in stone.”

Stolas’s face cleared of all expression. “Madeleine requires clothing.” He repeated.

“Hmm.” Seir rocked back on their heels and finally turned their attention to me. Their green eyes lit up as they studied me head to toe. “Preference?”

I rubbed my lips. Wincing with an apology for my silence.

“She cannot speak.” Stolas waved a hand dismissively. He turned to me. “Seir can travel to any part of the world. He can bring any garment from any culture. He can make any item you desire. His services are in great demand.” Stolas explained.

I nodded to show I understood.

Stolas turned to Seir. “Do you have a catalog?”

Seir threw his hands in the air with exasperation. “A catalog ?”

Stolas ignored his outburst. “I trust your judgment.”

Seir’s eyes narrowed. He jabbed a finger in my direction. “Fitting room, now .”

“Your human has a nickel allergy,” Seir said once we emerged from the fitting room. Barely any time had passed, but my arms were full of clothing—jeans, t-shirts, and even a wool coat. “She also has an infected wound on her arm. You need to take her to the Tailor.”

I eyed Seir as if he was mad. I thought he was the Tailor. Not that I knew much about the demon; he hadn’t said more than two words as he’d measured me with disinterest.

I turned expectantly to Stolas. Waiting for him to explain. He ignored me.

“Bad?” Stolas’s lip pinched.

“Unpleasant.” Seir corrected.

I’d had enough of the two demons talking about me as if I wasn’t there, but there wasn’t much I could do about it.

Seir reached into the pocket of his baggy pants and produced a piece of paper. “I require payment for services rendered.”

“Of course you do,” Stolas said dryly, plucking the paper from Seir’s hand.

“An invitation to Behem’s shindig. A feast, in his honor, on the next full moon. He’s been asking for your attendance.”

“Of course he has,” Stolas muttered. “Since when have you done Gluttony’s dirty work?”

“Since Gluttony rules this city.” Seir snapped his fingers. “You know that.”

Stolas scoffed.

“Your flock is invited. Naturally.” Seir added.

Stolas ushered me to the side door instead of the front without bothering to make an excuse for his quick escape.